


A Lone Storm

by pulchrasilva



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Bullying, Fae & Fairies, Gen, I have no idea how accurate this is to actual fae folklore I'm so sorry, I really like the sides as kids apparently, Logan is a child at the start, Mountains, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Rain, Small Towns, Stalking, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Terminal Illnesses, Thunderstorms, adding tags as I go, fae!virgil, human!Janus, human!logan, it suddenly feels more relevant after FWSA too, virgil basically stalks logan for most of his life which is really creepy now I think abou it, well it's really an extinct volcano but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulchrasilva/pseuds/pulchrasilva
Summary: "He was so surrounded by his thoughts that the sharp high-pitched yelp that sounded through the darkness did nothing to rouse him. It wasn’t until a frustrated exclamation rang out that Virgil realised that the mountainside was not as deserted as he thought it was."When Virgil stumbled upon an intriguing human child halfway up a mountainside during a thunderstorm, he didn't actually expect anything to come of it.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from 'A Storm Is Coming' by Geoffrey Fafard.
> 
> If you spot a spelling error please let me know because I wrote half of this in the middle of the night. Oops.
> 
> Warnings: possessiveness and talking about owning humans (because faerie), cursing (f-word), mentions of injury
> 
> Enjoy!

The sky was overcast, dark and clouded. Anyone looking on the scene would have guessed it to be the middle of the night. They would be wrong. Nobody would have guessed it had been mid-afternoon before the sudden onset of the storm. But it had been, and still was, daytime. Yet all warmth was leeched from the air and daylight was nowhere to be found, as the sun was obscured by bitter clouds that scowled down. The darkness was only split by the occasional fork of lightning.

From those same heavy, furious clouds fell raindrops in the thousands, if not millions. Again and again, those tiny droplets fell against the rocks, leaving nothing behind but a small splash. Yet, they were an army laying siege to the mountain, and their only goal was the erosion of the whole thing. They attacked with the single-mindedness of a single entity. The path of the rain was slanted by the vicious wind that swept and whipped through the air. Whenever the water met unprotected skin, a sharp sting was left behind, so bitingly cold that it would burn.

But there was nobody around to feel the sting and burn of the angry rain, just as there was nobody to see the night-dark sky. Everybody was inside, sheltering from the fierce onslaught of the elements.

Everybody except Virgil.

Virgil was stalking through the storm. Well, through was perhaps not the best description. It was more like he was stalking _in_ the storm, because with every step, the storm would shift, always leaving that lone wanderer in the centre.

Virgil did not feel pain of rainwater striking skin, for none of it came close to touching him. Any drop that came too close to contact with him would swiftly divert its course away from him.

The frigid temperature of the air did not seep into his flesh or cling to his bones the way it would anyone else. Virgil’s skin was already chilled, and his bones were like blocks of ice.

However, what Virgil _did_ feel was the anguish of the storm.

The guilt and betrayal and _fury_ , all of it was written across every line of his face the same way it was written across the sky in jagged lines of lightning. The sinister rumbling of thunder was simply his desperate, enraged cries being vocalised by the heavens. He felt what the storm felt. Or, more accurately, the storm felt what he did.

Usually Virgil would worry over how out of control his emotions were becoming. There was a town, just at the base of this mountain, that he could cause grievous damage to. What if he hurt someone, or a home collapsed under the pressure?

But today, he let his feelings run wild. So run wild they did, and they tore apart the skies. He had long since given up trying to control how he felt when it came to _this_ particular topic.

Today, Virgil had an Errand to run. His least favourite errand, to be exact, though he didn’t get many. Nevertheless, it had to be done, just like it had needed to be done last decade, and the decade before, and every decade for 10,000 years.

That didn’t mean Virgil had to like it. Coming to this place always brought up bad memories that he kept buried deep inside his mind most of the time, especially when he had to run his Errand. Those memories were painful, like a knife that never dulled no matter how much time passed. It was far easier to forget that they existed, until he was faced with their acute cruelty once again.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t have any pleasant memories here. No, most of his memories were filled with happiness and warmth and family. Even now, he frequently came back to visit his friends, who chose to remain here despite the mourning. Still, sometimes that remembrance could not be blocked out no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

He was so surrounded by his thoughts that the sharp-high pitched yelp that sounded through the darkness did nothing to rouse him. It wasn’t until a frustrated exclamation rang out that Virgil realised that the mountainside was not as deserted as he thought it was.

Curious and more than willing to be distracted from his musings, Virgil adjusted his path towards the source of the noise. It was muted by the great sheets of ceaseless rain, but as he approached, he heard shuffling and irate muttering. That was odd in itself – most would be worried or afraid when stuck outside in the middle of such a fierce thunderstorm. Not irritated, as this person seemed to be.

Stepping out of the darkness, Virgil was met with the sight of… a child? A mortal definitely. If he had to guess, Virgil would guess he was around eight years old. Although, his knowledge of humans was very limited, and they did grow _very_ quickly.

The child was wearing a black shirt that had long since been soaked through and was several sizes too large on him. on his hands and knees on the floor, looking for something. His tiny hands patted the floor blindly, and he complained loudly whenever he was met with nothing but rain-slick rock.

An entirely involuntary but very fond smile crossed Virgil’s face. The cross little frown on the human’s face was just adorable, and his childish grumbling was endearing.

Something rooted in the centre of Virgil’s core called for him to learn the name of the human child and take him for his own. It scared him, how it didn’t take much for his instincts to flare so greedily. The possessiveness he sometimes felt and the desire to treat another life as his plaything – it was horrific.

Virgil had never claimed a human before. He hated how much power it would give him over them. Humans were so fragile, and Virgil could do some ridiculous things. It would be so easy to say something stupid like _go jump off a bridge_ , except they’d actually do it and they’d get hurt or even _die_ and it would be Virgil’s fault. So, although Virgil had often felt this same selfishness that made him want to steal people away, he had never allowed himself to indulge in it.

But this time, Virgil didn’t want to resist his instincts. His mind was already frazzled from his emotions running high and that just sounded like far too much effort right now. He wanted to take this child in, out of the cold and rain, and take him somewhere warm. Virgil could keep him safe, safe from the storm… that Virgil was making.

No, that didn’t make any sense.

But if he was right about this mortal’s age, then that meant someone had left a vulnerable little boy halfway up a mountain during a storm. That wasn’t right. Virgil could take him away from the people who chose to leave him at the mercy of the elements. He could provide the child with a proper home and keep him protected from anything that would try to harm him, just like the humans of the town had failed to do.

Distantly, Virgil recognised that he was just coming up with excuses for the cruelty that he was about to enact in order to appease his morality, but he was wilfully ignoring that fact. Besides, it wasn’t like he would hurt the child. Virgil wanted to make sure that the human was happy. Was that really so bad?

The mortal hadn’t noticed him watching yet, completely oblivious in his futile search. But when Virgil stepped forward, he looked up cautiously, most likely noticing the way the rain stopped falling above him as he was encompassed in the eye of the storm, even as it fell with the same ferocity everywhere else. Now, there was a little circle of empty air around the two of them. The child’s gaze narrowed, and it swept over the surrounding area suspiciously.

He knew that the human couldn’t see him yet. His eyesight was far better than that of an average human, even with the lack of light. Virgil grinned wickedly at that. Though perhaps it was heartless to delight in the uncanny presence he gave around humans even without being seen –the way that they’d tremble and fear would shine in their eyes. So he paced forward even further, stopping just inside the mortal’s field of vision. The pair of eyes snapped to him immediately.

The child clambered to his feet and stared at him, wide eyed. For an extended moment, Virgil stared down at the boy, while the tempest sung its fury around them. Virgil knew that he was far taller than an adult human could be without looking unnatural, especially with his limbs being all skinny and spider-like. Still, it took him a long moment to recognise that the way he could see a ring of white all around the boy’s irises was most likely a sign of fear.

Although, he didn’t really look scared. He wasn’t shaking or cowering or any of the other numerous things that humans usually did when faced with Virgil. It was more like the mortal was in awe.

Humans were so funny, the way that they wore their emotions all across their face and mirrored in their body language. Or maybe that was just a thing with children, something to grow out of. He couldn’t remember.

Nevertheless, Virgil made a point to crouch down, still keeping a respectful distance to avoid crowding him. The last thing he needed was to traumatise the kid. If this was going to work he would need to appear trustworthy. Even now, he was still a head taller than the child, but it was hopefully less intimidating (Really though, what did he know about mortals? This could just as easily be a sign of aggression, he’d never know.) He did his best to soften his face into something friendly, inviting.

Now, with him settled comfortably on the floor, Virgil realised that it was quiet – nothing but the steady _pitter-patter_ filled the void in the air. As the silence curled around them like a lazy dragon, he had time to think – or _overthink_ was probably more accurate. Talking to people was difficult enough already on a good day. A flash of light darted across the sky and thunder rolled, unsettled. This was far from a good day. Not to mention that the person in question was a _human child_. This whole interaction was going to fail horribly and then kid would run back to the village and then there would be a mob of angry humans after him with their iron pitchforks and–

“Are you a god?”

The question was so unexpected that the world stilled for a moment. Literally. The thunderstorm drew back slightly, from the panicked frenzy that Virgil had been working it into with his downward spiral. It actually caused him to chuckle low in his throat at the suggestion. It gave him something to focus on other than the turmoil that his emotions had become so rapidly over the day, and Virgil grabbed it with both hands. He had a goal: to acquire the name of this human.

“I am not a god, though it flatters me you think so,” Virgil replied carefully. He had to make sure he spoke simply, he didn’t want to overwhelm the child and it would probably be easier to establish some kind of trust between them if communication was clear.

The human nodded and hummed, like he was mulling over that answer although there really wasn’t much to unpack.

“Will you help me find my glasses?” he asked eventually.

Virgil blinked at the non-sequitur but didn’t otherwise show how it threw him. Glasses? What the hell were those? Alright, so maybe this wouldn’t be so easy as using a few easy words.

“I was trying to get home, but it’s raining so much and they fell off my face because of all the water,” the child continued. “I tried to find them, only I can’t see without them so it’s a bit difficult.”

Oh. So they were like some kind of spectacles? That should be straight-forward enough to find, even if he’s not entirely sure. Virgil scanned the ground and spotted a pair of rectangular spectacles lying a few metres away with strangely thick black rims. He stood from his bent over position slowly so as not to startle the kid with sudden movements (though the kid seemed wholly unconcerned). He snagged the spectacles from the ground, and discreetly used a ripple of magic to clear the lenses of rainwater before returning them to the mortal.

Or, not so discreetly, if the way the child narrowed his eyes at them sceptically was anything to go by.

Still, the glasses were slipped onto his face, and a polite nod of gratitude was offered. No ‘thank you’, though. That was interesting.

In placing the spectacles in his hand, Virgil had invaded the human’s space, something that he really should have been more careful. Although the kid seemed unconcerned by this change, Virgil still retreated a several steps back. When no protest came, he settled down properly and sat cross-legged a few paces away.

Then it was quiet again, just the sound of water against the rockface. Even the occasional call of thunder had petered out as Virgil’s anger exhausted itself. Virgil sought desperately for something to say – the conversation couldn’t just end there! There had to be something he could say. He just needed to find a way to ask for the child’s name without it seeming too sinister (Virgil ignored the fact that it would only appear sinister because it _was_ sinister).

Then a repetitive _tap-tap-tap_ noise rose out of the steady _pitter-patter_ of precipitation. Looking to the human, he could see the tiny fingers tapping against the wet ground. The movement caused the water to jump shallowly in a miniature mimicry of the rain.

How could something so simple be so precious?

Fuck it. He’s just gonna ask.

“May I have your name, kid?”

This mortal seemed nice enough, and wasn’t it bad manners to not introduce yourself to a new acquaintance for humans? (Which is rather foolhardy as far as Virgil is concerned, but he’s not going to complain.) And this was a child, barely more than an infant. He won’t have learnt to be cautious yet. There was no need for much trickery. Which suited Virgil just fine; he was never any good at that kind of stuff anyway.

“No, you may not,” the human said matter-of-factly.

Virgil blinked.

So much for that then.

The child was still speaking. “Because Mother always said not to give my name to strangers, especially not the weird ones. I don’t know why, but I promised I wouldn’t anyway. And you’re definitely a weird stranger, because you’re walking around all alone in the rain and the dark.”

“So are you,” Virgil pointed out, perhaps a bit vindictively.

“That is true. But I am going home. Where are you going?”

“Oh, just… out for a walk.” The kid raised an eyebrow, looking far too serious for someone so young. “Um, in a thunderstorm. It, uh, helps me think.” All technically true. But really, when did not saying anything incriminating get so difficult? This was going rapidly downhill, was probably going to crash and burn at the bottom.

The mortal nodded, and for a moment Virgil thought he had convinced him. Then he said, “Also, if my knowledge of this path is correct, which it is since I walk it every day to get to school and back, then where you are sitting,” he gestured towards Virgil, “has no ground. It’s hard to see in this light, but I am almost certain that you are sitting in the air.”

Oh. Well. Isn’t that embarrassing. Rule number 1 of acting human: don’t float. Humans don’t tend to do that.

That sting of disappointment made the rain beat down harder. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little pride. Even as a child, he could spot the signs. This human was smart. Of course he was, Virgil only ever wanted to keep the best of mortals.

He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Well, it looked like he wasn’t going to be leaving with a new human today. Maybe that was for the best. He couldn’t in good conscience take a kid away from their home, no matter how much he lied to himself. He’d never claimed a human before, there was no reason to now.

Still, he didn’t want to leave the mortal there. And not for a selfish reason this time! Nothing was keeping this child out of the storm but Virgil’s presence – if he were to leave, the kid would be at the mercy of the elements.

It wasn’t safe for the child to walk home either, even if Virgil escorted him. It was dark and the ground was wet. It would be all too easy for him to slip and fall and Virgil wouldn’t know the first thing to do if he got injured.

Of course, it was usually within Virgil’s power to simply dissipate the storm. He just had to focus his magic on that intention rather than his emotions. Unfortunately, his emotions were far too wild and insistent to be put aside for long. The only avenue available was to sit and untangle the knot of remorse like a ball of string until he found the end. (Or, not the end, but a pause at least. There were no ends with the course yarn, just the reprieve of a couple short years or so.)

Since he couldn’t leave the child alone on the mountainside, that meant he would have to remain here to do so. Not a problem for Virgil, it would be good to make sure that he got home safely. The real issue would be making sure that the mortal wasn’t too distressed at being in the presence of a powerful and ancient being for an extended period of time.

But the kid seemed perfectly content with Virgil sitting there, even knowing that he wasn’t exactly human. So he just settled down on his little patch of air, mirroring the mortal’s cross-legged position, and began to sort through his feelings.

When Virgil was done and the sky was back to being a bright and cloudless blue, he returned the mortal’s polite farewell. He watched from a distance as the kid made his way home to the arms of his waiting mother.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _8 years later..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter 2! It's been a bit longer than I wanted it to be, but life decided to be noisy. Also, thank you so much for over 100 hits already! I was really not expecting that, it was so exciting to see.
> 
> Warnings: mentions of bullying, unspecified terminal illness, loneliness, mentions of hallucinations, mentions of hypothermia  
> I think that's all but let me know if there's something else I should add.

The name of the human child, as Virgil had yet to discover, was Logan Croft. He lived at the top of the mountain with nobody except his mother, Sage Croft. It meant that they were far away from anybody else, just to get to the town they would have to climb all the way down the mountain. They had to make the trip at least once a day. Neither of them minded much – the exercise was good for them anyway.

Logan didn’t get along with most people his age. At best, they regarded him with indifference, though most of them acted like they had a personal grudge against him. So having a home far above the schoolmates that ridiculed him for everything from his intellect to the way he dressed was very much welcomed.

The town was named Mirable, after Mt. Mirable, the mountain that it lay at the foot of. The mountain was actually an extinct volcano, that had collapsed in on itself eons ago. Now there was a bowl shaped valley in the centre, framed by a ring of rock around it. It was a scenic place, private too since not many people bothered to hike up the mountain often enough to discover it. There was something alluring about knowing that thousands of years ago the place you’re standing would have been nothing but magma. Logan often went there after school, to just sit and take things in.

The volcanic ash meant that the soil was very fertile, and a lush forest blanketed the whole mountain. There was a sparkling lake spread out neatly next to the small town too; it was a popular spot for weekend picnics.

Naturally, living in a small rural town and being surrounded by the elements on all sides, the people of Mirable were superstitious. There were myths about all manner of creatures, from fire giants and guardian angels to witches and demons. The ones most widely believed, however, were the tales of the fae.

Some said that the fae were benevolent beings that would grant good luck to the humans that they favoured. In wasn’t uncommon for these people to leave offerings of freshly baked bread on their doorsteps on the off-chance that a faerie may pass through. Others made sure to keep an iron dagger on them at all times in case of an attack. People would knock the corners off their houses if it fell on a ‘fairy path’ for fear of incurring the wrath of the fae who travelled along it. Logan knew for a fact that these paths were not walked by any sort of mythical creature – just teens sneaking out at night.

If something is mysteriously broken, it was an angered brownie. Never a child who was too scared of getting in trouble to own up.

If something went missing, it must have been a pixie! Of course, there was no possibility that it was simply misplaced or moved by someone else.

If someone frequently wakes up with knots in their hair, it means that there’s a lutin hanging around nearby, rather than being nothing more than a bedhead.

That was another reason that Logan disliked the other people in Mirable. They were all too willing to believe in archaic myths that were just that. Myths. Nothing more. Faeries didn’t exist. So why bother pretending?

Logan had long since forgotten the encounter with the stranger in the storm. He had been very young at the time and nearly a decade had passed now.

His disbelief was just another reason that he was constantly excluded by his peers.

Logan never told anyone about the issues he had when it came to interacting with the other people of the town, least of all his mother. He didn’t want to worry her, though he got the feeling that she already suspected something. She often got a sad look in her eyes when he shuffled through the door after school and made sure to spend time with him whenever he was at home. Logan wouldn’t be surprised if Sage knew – she’d always had an uncanny way of knowing those kinds of things.

Logan didn’t care that he didn’t have any friends. He didn’t care that they lived far from the town. He was happy where he was.

Logan didn’t much like people. What he liked was the sky. It just held so many mysteries. He was always learning something new about the galaxy, the universe. He loved astrology almost as much as he loved meteorology.

On cloudless nights, he and his mother used to climb up to the highest peak of the volcano together, bundled up warm against the cold. They’d lay out a blanket on the grass and lay back, pointing out the constellations to each other. Up that high, light pollution ceased to matter anymore, and the stars would sparkle like jewels set into the fabric of the sky. The sky is so much more crowded where they lived that down on the ground with the rest of the humans.

Sometimes, Sage would get up and dance. She was such a beautiful dancer, it had been her favourite pastime since she could first learnt to toddle clumsily. Each step was delicate and deliberate; her arms stretched up into the sky as if to pull herself up and ascend to the heavens. If Logan was still laying down, he couldn’t see the ground that she walked on, and it would seem like she was dancing amongst the stars.

Of course, they didn’t go on their little night time trips anymore. Not since his mother got sick. The cold was too dangerous for her to go for even a little bit now. Logan had tried going by himself once, but it hadn’t been the same. The stars were far duller without another person there with him to marvel at their glow.

As it turns out, Logan hadn’t simply been left on a mountainside during the storm that day, as Virgil had assumed. It had simply been bad luck that had led him to be out during the storm. Or perhaps good luck, depending on how you choose to look at it.

It had been a bright and sunny day in the morning. Sage had fallen ill over the weekend. She wasn’t well enough to walk Logan down the path like she normally would, so she had decided to send him on his own. After all Logan was smart, and he had walked the path countless times – he wouldn’t get lost. So Sage had cautiously sent him on his way, making him promise not to talk to any strangers and _especially_ not to give his name to anybody who acted strange. Then she’d trudged back to her room and collapsed onto the mattress.

Sage had only been asleep for an hour or so when her phone rang. It was the school receptionist, calling to reassure her that Logan had gotten there with no issues. She rested far easier after that, knowing that her son was safe and in good hands.

Then the storm had hit, at the same time that Logan was supposed to be making his way home. It had come out of nowhere, there was no way to have predicted it. Logan was a _child_ , it wasn’t safe for him to be out alone during a storm at all, let alone climbing a mountain. Sage waited anxiously at home, hoping for her son to walk through the front door every moment. She called the school in desperation – maybe Logan hadn’t quite left when the thunderstorm began, and he was securely tucked away in his classroom still – but the lines were down, and she couldn’t get through.

Then, finally, Logan had stumbled through the doorway. He was in one piece, thankfully, though he was soaked through and had begun to shiver slightly. The most concerning part was how he had rambled about this nice man who had stayed with him until the rain stopped and walked him home. Sage hadn’t seen anyone around, so she chalked it up to some strange hallucinations from the cold. Which was worrying, to say the least, but he seemed to recover well enough.

The same couldn’t be said for Sage.

Over the years since that day, her health slowly deteriorated. It began with nothing but fatigue, though there were occasional days when she was so weak couldn’t even leave the house. But those days became more and more frequent, until they were more common that the good days. The doctors prescribed her medicines, but they couldn’t cure her, just ease the symptoms. They said that her condition was just going to continue worsening. Now older, Logan could hear the unspoken inevitability: it was going to continue worsening _until the end of her life_.

A couple of years ago, it had got so bad that it wasn’t safe for his mother to move around the house without someone there with her in case she fell. And naturally, Logan couldn’t look after her all the time because he would be at school most days, not to mention that he was a _child_ , only fourteen at the time. But Sage was too stubborn and refused to relocate herself and Logan to the main town and be closer to any help she might need. This was her home and had been the home of her ancestors before her. She would never leave it, not even for her own health. However, being so far away from anybody else made it difficult for even her doctors to treat her, and there weren’t many people who would be willing to climb a mountain every day for a near stranger.

That was about the same time that Sage’s childhood best friend moved back to town. Not only that, but she and her family moved into the Croft household.

Nobody ever said it, but Logan was sure that they only came back to Mirable to make sure that his mother was taken care of properly.

Now the little home of two was forced to expand to fit three more. Ms Mendax, Sage’s friend, had a husband and a son. The house was full of life and the top of the mountain was no longer so isolated. Logan even had a child his age nearby, and he walked to and from school with Janus rather than alone.

Logan hated it.

It was supposed to just be himself and his mother, this was their home, just theirs. His territory had been invaded and Logan didn’t like it one bit. But that was fine, it was for his mother. He could deal with a few people, it wasn’t that bad.

And Sage was clearly delighted to spend time with her closest friend more often, and she was able to get to know her friend’s husband properly now that they were living in the same house. Janus was even meeting her for the first time, seeing as the last time the two families had met up neither child had been old enough to remember.

That wasn’t to say that Logan didn’t get along with the Mendaxes either. It had been awkward at first, but after two years they managed to become a little more comfortable around each other. They all listened politely to the interesting facts Logan discovered during his studies and sometimes even chimed in with similar facts in their own fields of interest. Ms Mendax always made sure to check in with him at least once a day and Mr Mendax began to teach him how to bake which was something Logan had always struggled with.

Still, sometimes Logan felt like a stranger in his own home. It was not a pleasant feeling, and so was one that he tried to ignore for the most part. That was easier said than done.

The main problem was Janus. Logan just couldn’t figure him out. Both had an interest in philosophy and debates; both had a scepticism for social norms. They got on like a house on fire. That was, when they were in the house. As soon as they got into town, Janus wouldn’t even look his way. It was unsettling, this sudden change in dynamic, and Logan often found himself on edge around the other boy. He constantly waiting for an explanation for this strange inconsistency that never came (although Logan was sure that he knew what the explanation was. Janus did not actually enjoy his company, but he had to keep up pretences in front of his parents, of course).

So amidst all the chaos that his life had been for the last eight years, Logan found himself escaping from the house more and more often. He couldn’t go out at night to watch the stars any longer – Mr and Ms Mendax got worried if he went out after dark and even his mother didn’t want him to be out all alone in such an isolated area. Nobody would know if he got hurt, and there would be nobody around to help. That wasn’t important anyway, it wasn’t as much fun without Sage anyway.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was fine. Logan had another interest besides astronomy anyway. It was something he spoke about less often than space and astrophysics. Namely, atmospheric science and meteorology.

He’d always been fascinated by the atmosphere. How it was comprised of so many components that humans reduced to nothing but ‘air’. How it sustained life and sheltered living beings from the blistering radiation of the sun.

Mainly, though, Logan liked storms.

He had for as long as he could remember. There was something so calming about the constant but irregular rhythm of rain as it fell against soil or glass or rock. The sound enveloped him and made him feel safe. The distant rolls of thunder helped to draw him out of his mind, something that happened rarely.

Since he was a child, Logan would jump up from his seat as soon as he heard the tell-tale _pat-pat-pat_ of the beginnings of a rainstorm. He would press his little face to the window and watch in awe as the heavens opened. The frozen glass always left a cold, red circle on his cheek if he stayed in one place for too long (which he did nearly every time).

Now that he was older, he didn’t have to settle for merely watching.

By the time that the first rains had knocked against the door, he was already on his way out. During the most bitter days of winter he would pause only to grab a coat on his way out; most of the time he didn’t bother with even that.

Logan was standing out in the rain once again. It had been a long day of dealing with the unconcealed glances his way as he shuffled down the school corridors. Not that that was unusual, and he was mostly used to the staring by now. But he had stayed up late studying the night before and was far more irritable than usual today.

He’d never understood why he was outcast by his peers. There were all sorts of nonsensical rumours that went around about himself and his mother. People said all sorts of things. That Sage and Logan were witches, who lived so far away from the town so that they could brew evil potions without disturbance (why would they want to make evil potions when there was nobody around to use them on?); they were users of unstable magic who chose to stay far from others in case of stray explosions (as if either of them would be foolish enough to use something so powerful and uncontrollable); Sage had had an affair with a faerie, and Logan was the result, so they lived near the spot that Sage and this faerie first met at in the hopes of a visit (this one was somehow the most believable one – Logan actually had no idea who his second parent was. They had never played an important role in his life, so it hadn’t felt important to know. Still, though. It was absolutely ridiculous).

Often, his mother would narrate stories of her own school life. Logan thought it was a way of encouraging him to persevere despite the fact that he had no real friends. His mother had also been outcast by the other students. It was almost like it ran in the family. Only one person – Ms Mendax – could have been considered a friend to her. Because of her association with Sage, Ms Mendax was often excluded as well, though always to a lesser extent. Nevertheless, the other girl never even hesitated in her affections towards Sage, and the two quickly formed a stubborn friendship. In fact, the shared hardship may have only served to bring them closer to each other. Each knew without a doubt that they could rely on the other. But then Ms Mendax’s family moved away when they were fourteen and Sage was forced to face her classmates’ scrutiny alone.

Logan wasn’t lonely. He didn’t mind that the only important person in his life was his mother. He didn’t care. But sometimes he wondered what that kind of unyielding companionship would be like.

As Logan stood there for longer, the sensation of cold droplets against his skin slowly coaxed his thoughts away from his isolation. The swirling wind whipped his hair in front of his eyes, but Logan didn’t bother to brush it out of his vision. His glasses were already covered in rainwater so he wouldn’t be able to see anyway. Instead, he just breathed in the icy fresh air and took in the unparalleled feeling of being surrounded by nothing but nature at its strongest.

Logan stood in the storm for a while. Usually, he’d be able to name a more accurate length of time. But the whole appeal of storms was that he didn’t have to think as much. He didn’t need to keep track of the time, so he didn’t.

But then, a bright scar of lightning stretched across the sky, and thunder growled in the distance, jolting Logan from his meditative state. He should probably be getting back inside, it wasn’t safe to be out once the lightning starts. Especially not when he was standing on a _mountain,_ being so high up was dangerous. Besides, if he didn’t go back inside soon, he might develop a cold.

Not that Logan often got colds, regardless of how often he spent time in less than sensible weather. He most likely had a strong immune system, due to a balanced diet and the exercise he got coming up and down Mt Mirable each day.

As Logan turned on his heel to make his way back to the house, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. It was a pillar of darkness standing far into the rain, enough so that it could easily go unnoticed. Almost like the silhouette of a person staring out at him (which would be preposterous, nobody came up here in good weather, and the weather was _far_ from good at the moment).

That was another thing. Often, when Logan went out into a storm, he’d see a shadow just standing nearby, watching him. It never bothered him. Logan knew that it was just his brain creating images out of nothing. He had read once that people could suffer hallucinations from being out in the cold for too long. Although that was due to severe hypothermia, and Logan usually didn’t even start shivering, so that couldn’t be the cause. Perhaps he’d have to do some more research into that later.

Ignoring the bizarre shadow, Logan strode swiftly back into the warm glow of his overcrowded home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... a mysterious shadow. I wonder what that is.
> 
> Janus' surname, Mendax, means liar in Latin. Since Janus is the name of a Roman god it made sense to give him a surname from the same place.  
> Mirable, the name of the town, is also Latin. It means wonderful, strange or extraordinary, which felt fitting.  
> (I really like Latin for some reason as you've probably guessed.)
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think in the comments!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: bullying, implied illness, cursing (f-word), head injury, other minor injuries, vague implications of torture, stalking (non-malicious?), possessiveness
> 
> Make sure to look at the warnings, there's a lot of them this time so please keep safe
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

After that day on the mountainside, Virgil began visiting Mirable more often. At first, it was just to make sure the kid was doing okay – he was sure that being in the cold for so long wasn’t good for humans, and he didn’t know how severe it would get. They were just so delicate and warm and pulsing with life but could be damaged so easily. So he went back to that house at the top of the volcano and observed the comings and goings of the two residents.

It was strange, that. As far as Virgil knew, humans did better to live in groups. There was safety in numbers, supposedly.

The kid seemed perfectly happy though and didn’t appear to develop any drastic symptoms of illness. Still, Virgil kept going every few months or so. Just to be sure.

During the many visits, Virgil just seemed to grow more and more attached to the boy. He watched from a safe distance as the kid darted around outside, seeming to take joy in every little thing. The autumn leaves, the new spring buds, the insects buzzing in the air and the squirrels gathering food for the winter – it all elicited a sunshine bright smile and more excitement than should fit inside such a tiny body. Virgil had been right, he was really smart. There seemed to be a new fact for everything he spotted.

His mother usually watched her son bouncing around outside all afternoon with great amusement. She only ushered him inside when night began to fall, although the child never went inside without a few protests. Sometimes, the two would make their way down into the hollow valley for picnics together and would play hide and seek in the underbrush. They seemed to be inseparable.

Virgil would kill for these mortals. They didn’t even know of his existence, but he would defend them with his life. He normally didn’t have the chance to grow so attached to the humans that he wanted to claim. He didn’t normally stick around long enough to care so much. This was new.

Neither mortal ever noticed his presence as far as Virgil could tell. He always made sure to stand far away enough that he wouldn’t be spotted in the downpour, or behind trees and the like if the rain wasn’t heavy enough. There was the occasional moment when one of the humans (usually the mother) would stare intently in his direction for just a second too long. That never failed to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but they always turned away eventually. Virgil usually took a few steps further back when it happened anyway, just to be sure.

Virgil never came at night, for two reasons. First, it was harder to watch the mortals when they don’t come outside, and far less entertaining when they do nothing but sleep. Secondly, the kid always seemed disappointed when he did for some reason. It was like something about the clouded night sky upset him.

It never seemed to bother the kid seemed to mind so much in the daytime, though. Virgil always tried to keep his storm to a minimum when he came to Mirable. The last thing he wanted was to ruin the fun with his presence. It wasn’t something he could always control though. On his more… _stormy_ days, the mother usually wouldn’t come outside. Still, the child would come to play in the rain, splashing in puddles and watching the moisture drip off leaves, before inevitably being called inside.

As time wore on, the kid’s fascination went from being excitable, uncontrollable to calm and steady. The child was older and far more serious. In fact, by human standards he probably wouldn’t be considered a ‘child’ much longer. Rather than jumping wildly from the trees to the grass to the mud, his attention rested on one thing at a time. Sometimes he and his mother would climb into the valley of the mountain, each with a book in hand, sit amongst the trees together and read.

But that soon changed too. In the most recent years, the mother stopped joining her son. In fact, Virgil quickly stopped seeing her all together, aside from an occasional glimpse through a window. It was a shame, Virgil missed her constant, unshakeable presence. She had an air of durability, immovability, that he found comforting, just as he was sure the kid did as well. Virgil still recalled that day when he had first seen the two – the look of relief on her face at the sight of her son, the way the child didn’t hesitate to stumble into her embrace, shivering. She was a stable symbol of security– even if Virgil wasn’t there to protect him, the child would be safe with her around. It made him anxious when he didn’t see her for too long. He definitely did not like it.

Then there were three more humans who began living in the house at the top of the volcano. There was an older couple, about the same age as the mother if Virgil had to guess, and who could only be their son. They appeared to be friendly with the little family of two, they all seemed to get along together well enough, even though there were occasional hiccups. The two boys seemed especially close. Still, they were disrupting the silent peace that was at the top of the mountain and Virgil didn’t like it.

Virgil hated sudden change. As a fae, he very rarely changed himself. He didn’t grow, didn’t evolve. He just stayed the same, always. Any change that he experienced was so gradual that it went entirely unnoticed. So any drastic change with no warning was always a jolt to the system. It made it anxious.

What brought this about? Why did the eternally idyllic life that they used to have take such a sudden turn. Virgil hated to think what it meant for his humans.

Soon enough, the serious demeanour of Virgil’s human became tinged with fatigue. He was no longer merely _quiet_ , he was weighed down, exhausted. An air of melancholy clung to him, one that certainly shouldn’t belong to someone who hadn’t even lived two decades yet. By the time he had dragged himself up Mt Mirable each day, he looked ready to collapse. And not from the physical exertion. That never seemed to cause any trouble for him. No, wherever he went nearly every day left him emotionally drained. Virgil didn’t like that either.

So, one day Virgil showed up in the early morning. Apparently, he’d come too early in fact, because he had to wait a few hours before the mortal left his home. When he finally came out of the house, the other human his age was also with him. Together, they made their way along the path down the mountain, this time with Virgil following.

It was in this way that Virgil learnt about school – the place that the two boys went nearly every day to learn. Virgil never went too close, since it was in the middle of the town and filled with young mortals. Humans could be very protective of their offspring, and with so many of them in one place there was no way that the adults wouldn’t be immediately on the offense if they caught sight of him. There were plenty of anti-fae measures that they’d taken as well, like the solid iron gates surrounding the perimeter, and he didn’t want to have to deal with those.

Instead, Virgil watched from afar as much as he could. Virgil watched how the humans all formed their own groups, where everyone was familiar with each other. Virgil watched how _his_ human didn’t even try to find a group of his own. Virgil watched the mortals lean in to whisper as he walked past. Virgil watched the snickering, the shoving, the tripping. Virgil watched the other mortal who walked to and from school with him every day when he chose to avert his eyes from what was happening. Virgil watched as his human tried to brush it all off and act like he wasn’t bothered. Virgil watched how his shoulders curled inwards more each time.

Virgil wanted to do something. It hurt to watch that enthusiasm for life, that he’d seen when his human was just a child, slowly being extinguished. After the many millennia Virgil had lived already, it was hard to find that unfiltered joy in the little things inside himself. The next best thing was watching someone else and living vicariously through them. He couldn’t just watch as this radiant mortal was stifled.

The first day that Virgil saw what happened at this ‘school’, he had been furious. So furious that when someone elbowed his human, lightning immediately tore across the sky and rain poured from the wound. He was nearly shaking with rage. Even after every mortal had run inside to shelter from the downpour, his anger hadn’t abated. He wanted to storm in there and make all of them pay for ever hurting his human.

But he couldn’t. Because the minute he showed himself, the humans would attack. Virgil might be powerful, but even he couldn’t take on a murderous hoard armed to the teeth. Not to mention, if he revealed his presence now, _his_ human would probably be on guard for him to show up and then there would be no way he could continue watching the family. Right now, none of them were in serious danger, but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t happen in the future. Who knows what could happen? Without Virgil there to keep an eye on them, they could get seriously hurt.

So instead, Virgil watched. Just as he always did.

Helplessness was not something that Virgil was used to feeling. He found that he really hated it. He was powerless to help someone he cared about, and it was tearing him up.

Still, Virgil was glad that he hadn’t done anything reckless. If he had, it might have meant that he wasn’t there _that_ day.

His human was walking along the path back up the mountain. The other one, the ‘friend’ who refused to help him face the other students, wasn’t there that day. So he was walking alone.

Or, well. Almost alone.

There were four other adolescent humans there as well, following him several paces away. Virgil didn’t like it. Humans didn’t usually come up this way, they very rarely bothered to go up the mountain and there were other routes to nicer places that they could take instead. It didn’t help that these four were some of the worst when it came to tormenting his human. Virgil knew from the way they whispered and pointed at the mortal in front of them that they were talking about him too.

From the way that the human held himself rigidly and his agitated, sharp pace, he knew it too.

Virgil walked along the air parallel to them, keeping a watchful eye on the situation. He’d already tried making it rain. He’d hoped that the bad weather would make them abandon whatever their plan was, or at least put it off for a later. Apparently, they were far more determined than he’d thought, so Virgil made the rain peter out. Walking up a volcano in the rain would risk injury, and while he would love to see the group of troublemakers in pain, the last thing Virgil wanted was to hurt _his_ human. But the sky was still overcast and clouded.

They had made it just over halfway up the mountain, and Virgil was beginning to think that they might make it out of this without too much incident. It was wishful thinking, of course. That was when it happened.

“Hey, robot!” One of them called out, and her friends all laughed. Virgil’s human stiffened minutely, so that Virgil probably wouldn’t have noticed if he had been human. Other than that, he gave no indication that he’d heard them.

They weren’t happy with that. “Hey!” The girl called out again. “I’m talking to you, freak!”

This time, he faltered his steps. Then he grimaced but continued walking once more, looking like he was resigned to his fate. Virgil wasn’t having any of that.

One of the other kids rushed forwards and kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to crumple to his feet. He didn’t bother trying to get up again, just tilted his head downwards and took a steadying breath. The others surrounded him, towering over him. It was clear that out here, with nobody around – no authority figures around – they weren’t going to hold back. No more snide remarks and subtle shoves. Virgil tensed, a spider ready to sink its fangs into its prey. Thunder growled threateningly in the distance, but they payed it no mind.

At first, they just shoved their captive between them and jeered at his helplessness. But then somebody misjudged their push on the slippery rock and suddenly Virgil’s human was sprawled out on the ground, eyes closed, a few splatters of blood staining the floor near his head. “Shit.” One of the other humans said.

Lightning tore across the sky, snarling. Icy raindrops fell furiously to the earth. The world was quickly leeched of colour, the sky and land blending into one mass of grey.

The oblivious mortals looked around, bewildered by the sudden changes in the weather and not at all afraid as they ought to be.

One of them wanted to leave, said that they shouldn’t stay out during a storm. Another said that they couldn’t leave someone passed out in the middle of nowhere, even if it was a weirdo. They were all so busy arguing between themselves that they didn’t notice Virgil looming out of the rain and darkness. He was only a stone’s throw away from them when one of them jerked their head suddenly to look around for danger, the same instinct that alerted a wild animal of an approaching predator. Their eyes widened as they caught sight of Virgil. One shaky hand lifted to point in his direction, and they all spun to face whatever had spooked their companion.

The kids stumbled backwards in terror, but Virgil continued advancing. In this weather, they wouldn’t be able to see his rage on his face, but it could be felt in the air around him, choking and terrifying, like it could freeze the breath in your lungs. It only took one person turning and fleeing back down the path for the rest to follow, panicked and shrieking.

Leaving the unconscious human for Virgil to do as he willed. Cowards! How dare they! How dare they hurt someone, _Virgil’s_ someone, and then leave him vulnerable and in the hands of a stranger. And not just any stranger, a _fae –_ they had to know how dangerous that was! He could never be seen again, nobody would ever know his fate. If he died, or if he lived in agony – if he could even be recognised as human any longer.

It was a good thing that it was _Virgil_ there today. He knows other fae who wouldn’t hesitate to whisk away a new plaything. He shuddered at the thought.

Those cruel humans ran from him, but the tempest refused to let them get away so easily. They slipped on the slick ground, each falling on their faces more than once. The sky lit up with lightning at just the right time for them to trip over that rock, or stumble over that dip in the path. All the while, thunder rolled menacingly, but it no longer felt quite so distant. Even the rain itself was vindictive, actively seeking unprotected skin and leaving behind a sting on impact that lasted far more than it should for an ordinary raindrop. By the time they had made it back to the town, not one of them wasn’t covered in bruises and scrapes and cuts.

It wasn’t enough. They deserved far more hurt for this. They ought to feel the all the pain that they’ve caused several times over in Virgil’s opinion, and out here with no one else around Virgil’s opinion was the only one that mattered. He wanted nothing more than to hunt them down and make them suffer.

But he had bigger issues to deal with. For example, the injured human still lying passed out of the ground.

Now, he wasn’t entirely sure, but Virgil had a feeling that unconsciousness was probably a bad sign for humans. Which meant that he needed to do something to help. That would require… medical treatment.

Fuck.

He knew next to nothing about humans, let alone human _biology_. What was he supposed to do?

Okay, he just needed to think about it logically. First step would be getting the mortal out of the rain.

Virgil wasn’t sure if it would be safe to move him at the moment, so instead he moved closer until the limp body was enclosed in the eye of the storm and sat down. First step complete.

What now?

He sighed. Really, there wasn’t much that he could do without risking making it worse. But leaving him untreated for too long could _also_ be dangerous. Virgil resigned himself to a long period of sitting and fretting.

The human was still breathing at least. That had to be a good sign.

For far too long, Virgil sat with nothing but the sound of his own rain to keep him company. He was still shaking with the left over adrenaline of his fury. It was a shame that he hadn’t gotten any sort of proper revenge. Maybe later.

When he wasn’t stewing in his anger, he was instead paralyzed with fear. He really didn’t know if he was doing the right thing to wait with the human. What if his magic interfered with the healing? Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?

And what was Virgil planning to do, anyway? Just sit here until he woke up?

_What if he didn’t wake up?_

Finally, he heard a voice cutting through the storm. It was calling out, but Virgil couldn’t quite make out what it was saying over the roar of his storm (probably for the best, if it was shouting a name). Still, he was sure that he recognised it – it was that mortal woman who had recently begun spending time at the house. Virgil figured that meant he could trust her, so he stepped backwards until his human was once again in the storm.

The boy was already soaked to the skin by the time the woman found him. She made a distressed noise and scooped him protectively into her arms.

Virgil watched as she retreated back up the mountain path, carrying the precious bundle back to his home, and disappeared into the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee, poor Logan right?
> 
> Leave a comment, let me know what you think! See you soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates, I've been finding it hard to get the motivation to write recently. Anyway, this chapter is a bit longer to make up for that! Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Warnings: the aftermath of being attacked and mentions of the last chapter, headache and mentions of concussion and head injury, painkillers, mentions of missing memories (but as in he was unconscious, not memory loss)  
> I think that's it for warnings, but let me know if there's something more I need to add!
> 
> Also, quick disclaimer, I am in no way a medical professional and I have no idea how realistic any of this is so please don't take anything I say on that topic as fact

When Logan woke up, he was confused to say the least. He was in his bedroom. That wasn’t unusual. But there was an unbearable pounding in his head, which was strange.

He brought his hand up to the tender spot, fingers carefully brushing over the swelling right in the centre of his forehead.

Now that he thought about it, Logan couldn’t remember getting home that day. He actually remember anything past the late afternoon, but according to his clock, it was now half-past eight at night. That meant that about three hours of the day were missing from his memory. That was very concerning.

Logan sat up, grimacing as the movement caused the throbbing in his head to flare up further. Despite not remembering actually reaching his destination, for some reason he could distinctly recall leaving the school and walking through the town on his way back.

Oh. Oh, that’s right. He’d been on his way home, making his way through Mirable, and he’d noticed that there were four other students following him. At first, he’d been a bit uncomfortable but hadn’t thought too much of it. Sure, he’d never seen this particular group on that road but there could be any number of reasons for the change in routine. It wasn’t necessarily to do with Logan. Even if it did make him nervous.

Although, as he got further away from the main town, those ‘other reasons’ began to look less and less likely. But there was nothing Logan could do other than keep walking. His best bet was to get home as quickly as possible. He couldn’t go back to the town, that would mean passing the people following him. Even if he could, Logan genuinely wasn’t sure if he could rely on the townspeople to help him – a sad realisation, but a true one nonetheless.

None of them much cared for Logan. It just depended on whether their empathy for another human being could outweigh that disdain. He wouldn’t bet on that.

So Logan walked briskly up the mountain, trying not to glance behind him too often or too obviously. He didn’t want them to realise that he knew they were there.

They had caught up with him anyway. They had tripped him over and surrounded him and Logan had been terrified. He had been trembling, on the verge of tears and just a few well-placed prods away from falling apart.

Back in the present, Logan closed his eyes as if it could block out the memory of the fear. Just thinking about it was enough to make his heartbeat speed up. He slumped over and buried his face in his hands.

He must have hit his head, although Logan couldn’t remember much after that very clearly. It would explain the headache, and why he had just been asleep.

Then Logan remembered something that made him shoot bolt upright.

It had been when he was still floating between awareness and unconsciousness. The students who had cornered him had… run. They had him vulnerable, and they were in no danger of getting spotted. Yet, they just turned on their heels and fled.

Then the shadow came. It had loomed out of the darkness and solidified into a _person_. It had leant over Logan, peered down at him. That must have been what they were running from. It had sat and stayed with him, at least until Logan had properly passed out.

It was a shame that he had been on the verge of unconsciousness at the time. Logan had never seen the shadow from so close before and it could have been a valuable opportunity to learn more about them.

Nevertheless, Logan knew without a hint of doubt that it was the same shadow as he often saw during storms. Which was bizarre. It wasn’t an outrageous hypothesis, but there was very little evidence to suggest that it was correct. Yet, Logan knew instinctively that the eerie shadow that stared at him from the rain and the person who had scared away the bullies were one and the same. He didn’t know _how_ he knew. He just did.

Logan was never one to jump to conclusions so impulsively. That was what made this instance so alarming. Why was there some part of him that recognised this person? He didn’t know, but he was determined to find out.

With this realisation, Logan found himself restless. The person was important, that much was obvious. But they were also an entirely unknown variable. Presumably, they were his saviour, unless their appearance and the subsequent departure of the other teenagers had been mere coincidence – unlikely, as Logan didn’t believe in coincidence. However, they were also a stranger. In a town where everyone knows everyone, a stranger is unusual, or even dangerous.

So Logan had been unconscious and in the hands of a stranger for who knows how long, which was highly alarming. _And not even a human stranger_ , that same audacious part of Logan whispered.

That was… preposterous. Ridiculous, there was no possibility. The person was clearly humanoid – Logan’s vision may have been wavering at the time, but he could see enough to make out the basic shape – which means it wasn’t some sort of mountain creature. So if it wasn’t human, and it wasn’t another kind if animal, then that left… what?

No. No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, because fae didn’t exist. The fae were nothing but myths made by primitive people to comfort them in the face of tragedy or bad luck. They were a way of explaining away all the terrible happenings that couldn’t be explained in a more reasonable manner at the times, but that modern science can now make sense of easily.

Even if the fae _weren’t_ just fiction, why would one help _Logan_. The only possibly reason he could think of was that they wanted to make a deal with him. But what did he have specifically that a fae might want?

This was a mystery to be sure. He had always liked a good mystery (though it was slightly different when it was his own life and not simply words on a page). Logan resolved to get to the bottom of it.

At that moment, Ms Mendax came through the door carrying a bowl of soup and a plate of soft, warm bread. She stopped short at the sight of Logan sitting up.

“Oh, you’re awake!” She noted cheerfully. “How are you feeling, peanut? Have you had some water? Here, have some water.” She picked up the glass on his bedside table and thrust it into his grasp. Logan took a long drink of water to appease her, then he replied to her first question, “I am alright, Ms Mendax. I’ve just got a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, sweetheart! Just give me a minute, I’ll get you some painkillers. You just eat your soup, Lo, okay?” And with that she bustled out of the room before he could protest.

Logan picked up his food, and was about to tuck in when Janus came in.

“Mum told me you were awake,” he said by way of greeting, dragging out the desk chair and plopping himself down.

He looked uncharacteristically uncomposed. Usually, Janus managed to act entirely unflappable even when he was irritated. And yet, his eyes were red-rimmed as if he’d been crying, his hair was in utter disarray and his normally rosy skin seemed almost ashen. His entire appearance conveyed a recent emotional distress, and unless another drastic event had happened, then it must have been due to _Logan_. Which made no sense, because Janus at best felt neutrally towards him, but most likely hated his presence. There was no reason for him to be upset about this.

Confused, Logan decided not to say any of that, and instead simply replied, “It would seem so.”

Janus gave an empty laugh at that. He dragged a hand down his face. “How are you feeling?”

Logan sighed. He supposed that this would be a question he would encounter often, but it was already wearing thin. “I am fine, Janus, other than a small headache. But that is only a minor inconvenience.”

“Oh,” the other boy was jumping up from his seat before Logan had even finished talking. “I’ll go get you some–”

“That’s alright.” Logan cut in quickly. “Your mother has already gone to get some painkillers for me.”

“Oh.” Janus said again. He went to the doorway and stuck his head into the hall. “Mum!” He shouted. The sudden noise made Logan’s head throb and he grunted slightly. Janus grimaced apologetically at him, and his next words were called much more softly. “Have you got some painkillers for Logan?”

Faintly, Logan heard Ms Mendax’s reply, and then Janus was back at the bedside, holding out the tray of tablets.

“Thanks,” he said, and snagged the glass of water on his bedside table, quickly taking a couple of the pills.

“No problem.” Janus replied quietly. He opened his mouth again, like he wanted to say something more, but he seemed to think better of it, instead turning and striding towards the door. Just before he crossed the threshold, however, he hesitated again. Janus didn’t turn around, but he muttered, “You should be more careful next time.”

And with that, he disappeared around the corner.

Be more careful? What did that mean? What did Janus think he could have done to prevent this, being so far outnumbered?

Come to think of it, what did everyone think had actually happened? Did they know that he’d been attacked, or did they think that he’d just misstepped? If he remembered correctly, there had been a storm. That would definitely explain what Janus had meant.

But Logan had though that Janus was smarter than that. Logan wouldn’t lose his footing, he knew the mountain paths as well as he knew his own home. He knew each dip and rise, each loose rock. A bit of bad weather wasn’t enough to unbalance him. And Janus was well aware of the trouble that the other student gave him.

So what did Janus mean?

Logan lay back down. The painkillers hadn’t kicked in yet, and all this thinking was making his head hurt.

***

Logan woke up late the next morning. Somebody must have turned off his alarm – he never slept through the noise, not even when he’s ill – but Logan couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed by that.

He tried to go to the kitchen to get breakfast, where he could hear the sound of Mr Mendax singing as he cooked. But as soon as he stepped foot into the room, Ms Mendax was shooing him back to bed. “We’ll bring you your food when it’s ready,” she promised.

Not long afterwards, Mr Mendax came to deliver his breakfast in bed, despite Logan’s protests. Honestly, though he was unused to being spoiled so much it was far from being an unwelcome feeling.

About halfway through his meal, he heard two pairs of slow footsteps making their way down the corridor to his room. Logan paused. That must be his mother, and most likely Ms Mendax helping her along.

Sure enough, Ms Mendax wandered through the door a few seconds later, gripping Sage by the arm and helping her to the chair that Janus had vacated last night. The woman quickly left, leaving mother and son alone.

“Good morning, Mum,” Logan said, smiling.

“Morning, baby,” she replied softly. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Mum,” he assured her, choosing to leave out the matter of his headache as it hardly hurt anymore anyway.

Sage narrowed her eyes doubtfully at him but didn’t press him. “That’s good,” she said instead. She went to say something else but was interrupted by a hacking cough forcing her to bend over and making Logan’s heart clench painfully.

“Mum?” he asked, frantic concern in his voice. But she had already straightened up.

Sage waved him off, though her eyes were still a little shiny. “Do you have some water?” She asked, and immediately Logan had thrust his own untouched glass into her hands.

There were a few moments of silence, filled with Sage taking small sips of liquid to soothe her throat and Logan watching worriedly. Then she spoke up again.

“Sophie seems to think that you slipped in the rain and fell.” She was watching him carefully, but Logan didn’t see this because he had turned back to his breakfast as he listened to his mother speak. There was a pause, and Sage reached for his empty hand. “You didn’t slip though, did you?”

Logan froze. He didn’t want to lie to his own mother (not by commission at least), but he didn’t want to tell her what had really happened either. The last thing that she needed was another thing to be worried about.

Though, it appeared that she already knew. Really, he should have expected that – she had always been remarkably perceptive. Logan had foolishly thought that he would be able to keep his issues with other people his age from her. He did appreciate her willingness to let him believe that he still had some control over that, at least. It was embarrassing, how badly he had misjudged that.

Sage sighed, despite the lack of a reply. “Oh, sweetheart. I wish you didn’t have to deal with this. You don’t deserve any of this.”

***

Logan had needed to be checked for a concussion, but thankfully, he was fine. Other than the head injury, he had been fortunate enough to only collect a few cuts on his hands and knees. And so, after only taking the weekend off, he was insistent that he got back to school (despite the massive lump on his head which, as Mr Mendax had kindly informed him, looked like he had a chicken’s egg protruding from it – Ms Mendax said that he was exaggerating to rile Logan up). The Mendaxes had been hesitant to allow him, all of them agreeing that he needed more time to recover properly. It was Logan’s mother who decided that he could go. She said that if he said that he was fine, and it would make him happy, then Logan could go back to school. Her eyes were glittering sadly as she spoke.

On the first day back at school, the whole student body was buzzing. Unsurprisingly, news of the incident with the… creature had spread quickly, and everyone wanted to know more. Despite – not that he would ever admit to it – Logan doing his best to avoid the four students who attacked him, he had already spotted each of them recounting the tale in front of an enraptured audience several times in the first few hours. But still, the students’ curiosity was not sated. They _needed_ to know more.

“Hey, Logan!” Came a voice. Roman, who was part of the popular group and therefore had never bothered to even talk to Logan, was now running and shouting to get his attention. “Did you see it? The _faerie_! Everyone was saying that you were there when it showed up!”

Uncomfortable and unsure what to do with this unexpected interaction, Logan adjusted his glasses before replying. “Yes, I suppose I was there, though–”

Roman gasped. “You were?” He asked, voice hushed with awe and eyes shining. “What did it look like? What did it do? Did it do _magic_?”

The stream of questions was uncomfortable, and it bothered Logan to no end that he couldn’t answer most of them. “Well, being unconscious doesn’t exactly lend itself to observation,” he snapped irritably.

“ _You were unconscious?_ ” That was funny, Logan would have thought from the number of times the story had been repeated, that ever detail would have been common knowledge. Then again, it did make sense that this particular part wasn’t known – why tell a story that sheds you in a negative light? _“_ Why? Did it do magic _on you_?”

The conversation was drawing the attention of the people around them as any talk of the Fair Folk often did, and suddenly Logan was surrounded by students demanding to know answers to their questions. He was used to fading into the background as much as possible, keeping his head down and not being seen. This amount of attention was almost never a good thing, even now none of them were interested in _him_ , just the information he has to give.

Before Logan could even consider making a biting remark, a voice was cutting above the clamour, and the familiar form of Janus pushed through the crowd. “Alright, alright, move along everybody. There’s no need to cause such a commotion, I’m sure you’ve already heard the story countless times before.”

The students grumbled, but ultimately bowed to the authority of the golden boy and dispersed through the hallway to get on with their days.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked once they had a modicum of privacy.

Logan had no idea what to make of that. Janus had never talked to him while they were in the town, let alone the school. He had always turned a blind eye to Logan’s torment, to the point that Logan sometimes wondered if he even knew what was happening. He’d certainly never expected Janus to step in to help him.

Logan didn’t say any of that. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied instead, choosing to keep his confusion at this apparent change of heart to himself.

“Good,” Janus said, and then he smiled. “I’m glad.”

***

This strange new behaviour continued into the next few weeks. Janus was far friendlier than he had ever been before. Something must have changed recently, around the same time as he had gotten hurt on the mountain. Logan didn’t believe in coincidence, if the change had made itself apparent so soon after the incident, then it was _caused_ by the incident. It must be what had happened that day which had been the catalyst for this change. The only issue was that Logan couldn’t think _why_ it would cause a change of this nature specifically.

Now there were two mysteries Logan had to ponder over: Janus’ shift in attitude and the shadow in the storm (not a faerie, he refused to refer to it as a faerie without more data). All of this not knowing was driving him mad. But as a scientist, the only way to understand is to ask questions.

Of course, asking those questions was rarely so literal, but that was beside the point.

Logan didn’t really want to ask Janus anything just yet. That would mean bringing up Janus’ previous disregard for him and the thought of doing that made Logan feel sick.

He wasn’t procrastinating on it, he _wasn’t_. It’s just that the shadow was so much more intriguing, that’s all.

So, if Logan were to investigate the shadow, he would need to go out into a storm. Preferably as soon as possible.

At the tell-tale sight of dark clouds laying low in the sky, Logan hurried to pull his shoes on, and snagged his coat off the hook on his way out of the door. Even from here, he was sure that he could see the small pillar of darkness darting around the corner of the house, just a fraction too slow to avoid being spotted. The excitement was building in him, this was it, Logan was finally going to get some answers!

But just as he was about to close the door – “Where are you going?”

How ironic, that the object of one mystery would prevent him from pursuing answers to the other.

There was nothing accusing in Janus’ voice, just gentle curiosity. Still, Logan couldn’t help but freeze like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Out for a walk?” He said, though it was really more of a question.

“Oh!” The other boy responded, “wait a minute, let me grab my shoes, I’ll come with you!”

“Okay.” Logan tried valiantly to keep the disappointment off of his face until Janus had left. He wasn’t sure if it worked.

So close. He had been so close to gaining the information he craved. Instead, Logan had to suffer through a short walk through the rain with Janus, keeping up a casual conversation and being taunted by the sight of an irregular patch of darkness darting around in the corner of his eye.

This happened several more times over the next few days. The rain kept up all the while, although it did get more and less intense at times during its stay. Nearly every day, Logan would go outside with the intention of finding the shadow, only for Janus to invite himself along and the chance to slip through his fingers. The frustration was building in Logan. All he wanted was an hour or so to ask for his questions, why was that so difficult to achieve?

But finally, it happened. Janus was staying after school for the drama club, so Logan had walked home by himself (and that definitely didn’t make him nervous as he remembered what had happened last time he was in this situation).

It was raining heavily when he got back to the house, and that was when he realised that this was his opportunity. Who knew when he’d get this chance again?

So, instead of making his way inside, he turned back around and wandered a little further away, just enough that he was unlikely to be seen or heard by any of the other inhabitants of the house.

“I know you’re there,” Logan called out. He felt a little stupid, it was absurd to talk to the empty air like he was now.

Except that the air was suddenly no longer as empty as it had seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh look at that, a cliffhanger, how did that get there?  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, hopefully I'll get the next chapter out sooner!
> 
> (tw, mention of death of a loved one) And on a sort of side note, Ms Mendax is inspired by the woman who was practically my third parent, which is why she has a very maternal role without quite being considered a part of Logan's family. She passed away a few years ago, and her birthday is coming up so I've been thinking about her and wanted to honour her. What better way to do that than to make her the mother of my favourite character?

**Author's Note:**

> It just keeps raining and so this was made.


End file.
